Chapter 67: The Sword Saint’s Disciple

The battle lasted from morning until noon, the four at the mouth of the canyon seemingly tireless, locked in a stalemate, yet skillfully confining their fight to a very narrow area.

Beyond a hundred paces, nearly two thousand elite martial artists from the Central Plains had gathered in a dense crowd, eyes wide, intently watching. Some had already fallen into a dazed state, having gleaned insights from the four’s combat, slipping into moments of enlightenment.

“I understand now, I understand, so that’s how it is...” someone murmured, then sat down where he stood, closed his eyes, and began to cultivate his inner energy.

The others were unfazed, though some looked on with envy; they had witnessed this phenomenon several times already during the morning.

Seeing that noon had come, Xia Ningshang once again wandered into the canyon and returned with a wild pheasant in hand. She hesitated, glancing at the four still locked in combat: that fool was still fighting, and her own culinary skills were questionable—would she have to chew on dry rations?

During this period, Ji Huo had always been the one to cook, greatly satisfying her palate; as for dry provisions, she’d long lost interest.

Suddenly, Ji Huo glanced back, then leaped out of the encirclement, waving his hand.

“No more fighting.”

The three immediately ceased, drenched in sweat, panting heavily, utterly exhausted, their limbs trembling. For people of their caliber, fighting for days on end was no issue in the past, but against Ji Huo, the pressure was overwhelming; their legs were now barely holding them up.

By contrast, Ji Huo was still smiling, utterly unfazed.

“Thank you, young master, for your guidance!” The three simultaneously clasped their hands in respect.

Ji Huo waved dismissively, “Just a mutual exchange of martial arts.”

They bowed deeply once more, then turned and strode away, not lingering among the martial artists but leaving directly. They were likely seeking a place to rest, yet the nearest town was far, and with their weakened state, it was uncertain if they could make it.

Ji Huo returned to the table, skillfully taking the pheasant and beginning to prepare it.

Xia Ningshang settled at the wooden table without a care, swinging her legs excitedly and asked casually, “How did it go?”

Ji Huo replied without looking up, “I felt nothing at all. I even think that if I stood there, they could never kill me.”

Xia Ningshang helplessly spread her hands. She had spent the entire day observing Ji Huo’s fights and had to admit her assessment of his strength had risen several times. She even vaguely guessed his rank and naturally understood the implication of his words.

In the end, it was simply that these people weren’t strong enough; none could push Ji Huo to the brink.

Although that was so, seeing Ji Huo’s smug demeanor, Xia Ningshang truly wished she could recommend he try facing the Sword Sage.

That uncle was not someone to be trifled with.

When Ji Huo had finished preparing the pheasant and set it expertly over the fire, occasionally brushing it with honey, the aroma began to waft through the air.

Xia Ningshang squatted beside him, beaming so much her eyes nearly closed.

“You don’t know how to cook?” Ji Huo asked.

He guessed this girl must be from a wealthy family in Dragon Country, the type whose delicate fingers never touched the spring water—so it was normal if she couldn’t cook.

Xia Ningshang hesitated for two seconds, then nodded seriously, “I do.”

“Oh?” Ji Huo raised an eyebrow.

Xia Ningshang added quietly, “Once, when I was a child, I got interested and cooked a dish, happily inviting my brother to eat with me.”

“And then?” Ji Huo asked.

“Then both my brother and I got food poisoning. Even the Grand Priest was called, but it was no use. We lay in bed for half a month before recovering.”

Xia Ningshang’s face was expressionless: “The Grand Priest, stubbornly ignoring advice, ate the leftovers to study the pathology. He was bedridden for a month.”

Ji Huo: “……”

By afternoon, the dense crowd had ceased all attempts at challenging.

After all, three second-rank masters had ganged up and lost; who would dare step forward now?

If it weren’t for the fact that most martial artists were idly loitering in the streets, the crowd would have dispersed long ago.

Just as everyone thought the matter was settled, a young man in white emerged from the throng.

His appearance was ordinary, resembling some young lord from a noble house, with two swords at his waist—one iron, one wooden.

Such attire was common among martial wanderers; many sons of officials, inspired by stories, believed swordsmen dressed thus, and imitated them to roam the world.

Human traffickers, seeing these young lords in such garb, were delighted—clearly inexperienced, unaware of the dangers of the martial world. Just kidnap them, extort their families, and profit handsomely.

Young, inexperienced, not strong, with wealthy families and no bodyguards—an easy mark.

“What’s this? A newcomer to the martial world? Is this calf seeking to challenge that youth?”

“Three second-rank masters lost; what does he hope to accomplish?”

The crowd murmured, clearly unimpressed by the youth. His clear gaze alone showed he’d never suffered the hardships of the martial world.

“Huh?”

Xia Ningshang suddenly looked up, surprised, her gaze fixed on the youth, especially the wooden sword at his waist. She felt the residual sword energy in her body stirring in excitement.

Her expression grew serious as she cautioned, “Be careful, that's the Heaven’s Will Sword.”

Ji Huo’s eyes lit up with interest, and he stood, walking toward the youth.

The youth clasped his hands, smiled, and said, “Young master, I am Hou Baixi. At my master’s command, I am here to retrieve the Demon Blade. Please grant me passage.”

Ji Huo’s eyes burned with curiosity. “What is your relationship to the Sword Sage?”

“He is my master,” Hou Baixi replied respectfully.

A wave of astonishment swept through the crowd yet again! It seemed all they did these days was be shocked.

What began as a simple scramble for the Demon Blade had become increasingly dramatic: first an unknown youth appeared, slaughtering nearly a hundred martial artists, then defeating second-rank masters in combination, and now even the Sword Sage’s disciple had shown up!

Truly an event worth witnessing!

Ji Huo grinned, “Beat me, and the Demon Blade is yours.”

Hou Baixi shook his head, “I am only ranked second; I cannot defeat you.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve long wanted to see the Sword Sage’s ultimate art, the Heaven’s Will Sword Technique,” Ji Huo replied, smiling. It was rare to encounter someone who could wield such a skill; he certainly wouldn’t miss the opportunity.

Last time he met You Zhuo, although he knew the Wind Command technique and its power was indeed formidable, You Zhuo’s incompetence meant he couldn’t properly display its might.

For a disciple of the Sword Sage to wander about in such attire and still remain unscathed, he clearly wasn’t some weakling.